


Tobermory

by ufovalet



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Martin Whump, Pre-Slash, marlas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufovalet/pseuds/ufovalet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of MJN fly a package to a small Scottish isle during a dangerous snowstorm. Martin has rotten luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Captain Martin Crieff gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and swerved slightly to avoid a particularly ominous-looking patch of ice. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he tugged his coat tighter around his thin frame and puffed a visible breath into the frigid air. For the hundredth time that day he berated himself for not shelling out to get the heating in his decrepit van fixed.  
So what if it means skipping a couple meals, he thought wryly.  
When he at last pulled into the Fitton Airfield parking lot, he was unsurprised to find that it was all but deserted. Only an airdot as small and desperate as MJN Air would continue business as usual during the worst winter storm Western Europe had seen in over a dozen years. Martin parked next to, but still a respectable distance away from, a Lexus he knew to belong to his First Officer Douglas Richardson. Martin retrieved his white pilot’s hat from his flight bag and settled it snugly on his head before shouldering his bag and exiting the van. The wide-open concrete expanse provided no protection from the wind, and Martin found himself struggling to stay upright against the icy particulates buffeting him. When he finally reached the portakabin he dragged himself inside and collapsed against the door. Almost immediately, an unusually helpful passenger- wearing a hat, bounded over to Martin.  
“Skip!” Arthur Shappey exclaimed, “It’s snowing!”  
Martin wiped the frost from his eyebrows and grimaced at Arthur, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”  
“So nice of Sir to join us,” Douglas said acerbically from where he sat at his desk across the room.  
“I overslept,” Martin stammered, “And besides, we’re on standby for the next week…”  
He sank down into his chair and began stripping off layers of coats. Douglas simply raised an eyebrow at him and wordlessly returned to reading his book. Arthur was hard at work cutting snowflakes out of coffee filters and taping them to the walls. With nothing else to do, Martin sighed and began working on some long-overdue paperwork Douglas had failed to complete. For the better part of an hour they worked in silence, interspersed with humming from Arthur. At around 9:00, Carolyn emerged from her office waving her mobile phone triumphantly.  
“Look alive, Team Useless, we’ve got a client.”  
“Brilliant!” Arthur crowed.  
“B-but Carolyn!” Martin spluttered, “We can’t fly in this weather! At the very least the snowfall obscures visibility on the runway enough that it falls outside of CAA acceptable-”  
“Martin, as much as I would love to listen to a flight manual recitation, we do not have time. The client is dropping off the cargo within the hour and we need to get it to the far side of Scotland by sun-down.”  
“If you don’t think you can handle it, Martin, I’m sure I can manage this one without you,” Douglas put in snidely.  
“No!” Martin stood up quickly, “No, I-I-I can do it.”  
“Good. Get the flight plan filed ASAP.”  
Carolyn disappeared back into her office, leaving behind a stymied Martin and a smug Douglas.  
“What are you smiling about,” Martin glared at Douglas.  
“Ah, nothing,” Douglas crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, “I was just thinking that I’d really hate to be the poor chap that has to do the pre-flight check today.”

\----

“The Sound of Silence, What a Wonderful World.”  
“Nice one… ok uh, Stormy Weather, Blowin’ in the Wind.”  
“In the Still of the Night, Makin’ Whoopee.”  
“Ooh I’ve got one; Wide Open Spaces, Free Falling”  
“I suppose that… works. Martin are you trying to insinuate something?”  
“No, I um, I’ve just never flown in conditions like these,” Martin admitted. He picked at his sleeve.  
“Martin,” Douglas sighed, “It’s just a little snowstorm, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Listen, if you’d like me to take the landing-”  
“No, Douglas,” Martin interrupted, turning slightly pinker than usual, “I’m perfectly capable-’”  
“Oh for goodness sakes Martin, not everything I do is an attempt to usurp your captainship, I’m simply offering my assistance. The offer remains if you change your mind.”  
After a few moments Martin nodded tersely, then returned his focus intensely to the window in front of him. Douglas leaned back in his chair as Arthur burst into the cabin holding two cups of coffee.  
“Coffee, chaps!” He said brightly.  
“Thanks, Arthur,” Martin accepted a cup and perked up visibly after a few sips, “This tastes surprisingly like coffee today.”  
“Imagine that.”  
Arthur nodded happily, “Thanks Skip, I added something special!”  
Martin stopped drinking.  
Douglas quirked an eyebrow, “Arthur please enlighten us, what is the special something you added to the coffee?”  
“Well you know how you and Skip are always complaining about how the coffee tastes? Lately I’ve been trying out adding new things to the coffee. You know in St. Petersburg? I put some-”  
“Arthur if I may,” Douglas interrupted, noticing Martin had gone a little pale, “I don’t think Martin here needs to know exactly what you put in the coffee before. What’s in this coffee?”  
“Well I was on the web looking for some sort of hat to wear for when we went to Uskerty, and I came across this brilliant recipe for something called Irish Coffee!”  
“Oh no.”  
“You spiked the coffee?” Martin spluttered.  
“Well, I suppose that’s a sort of way to put it…” Arthur looked disappointed.  
“Douglas doesn’t drink!” Martin turned to Douglas quickly, “Did you drink any?”  
“Fortunately, no. I always take the precaution of allowing you to sample any edibles prepared by Arthur before I partake in them. Now Arthur, as much as I admire your increasingly innovative attempts to thwart my sobriety, the Captain and I would appreciate it if you could leave the poor coffee out of it.”  
“Sorry Douglas,” Arthur said, crestfallen, “I’ll bring you some fresh coffee.”  
“Arthur wait,” Martin sighed, “This is brilliant coffee, it really is, just not for flights. After we get back to Fitton, I promise I’ll help you taste all the new coffee recipes you want.”  
“Brilliant!” Arthur beamed, then exited the cabin.  
“Martin,” Douglas paused for dramatic effect, “I’m a bit concerned you don’t fully realize what you’ve just agreed to do.”  
“Oh God,” Martin groaned and placed his head in his hands.

\----

The landing went fairly smoothly; as smoothly as MJN landings ever did. Tobermory was a tiny village on the small island of Mull in the reasonably sized country of Scotland. It was the type of place that was so small the mobile phone companies had overlooked it when deciding where to install cellular service towers. The “airport” consisted of a single runway, a helipad, and one building. The landing required all of Martin’s skill due to the narrowness of the runway and the low visibility afforded by the snowstorm. By the time all of the post-flight checks were complete, the sun had set, so MJN hurried into the small airfield offices where Carolyn attempted to arrange for a ride into town. They soon learned that the lone taxi service in Tobermory was not operating due to the storm, so It came down to Douglas bribing the manager of the airfield into giving them a ride. When they at last arrived at the small bed and breakfast and were settled in their rooms, they were all ready to fall into bed. 

“Douglas, do you think we’ll be able to fly out tomorrow in this storm?”  
“Martin, go to sleep,” Douglas groaned from his bed.  
Martin shifted to face Douglas, “Really though, what if it gets worse tonight?”  
“And? Then we’ll have a nice little vacation on Carolyn’s dime.”  
“But I have van jobs scheduled this week!” Martin’s voice rose in pitch, “I can’t afford to miss them, I’m liable to be kicked out of my attic if I miss another month’s rent!”  
“Martin listen,” Douglas, sensing Martin’s descent into a full-blown panic attack, adopted his most soothing voice, “I’m fairly certain Carolyn isn’t keen on staying more than one night in Nowheresville, Nowhere Island, and believe me when I tell you that if anyone can halt a snowstorm out of sheer force of will, it’s Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. Everything will be fine.”  
Martin was silent for a few minutes. Douglas raised himself up on one elbow to peer over at his roommate and realized he was sound asleep. Douglas smiled and layed back down, allowing himself to relax and drift off to the sound of snow battering the windows.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, Carolyn either did not possess the ability to control the weather, or had chosen not to exercise it on this occasion. It was storming even worse in the morning than it had been the night before. Douglas clambered out of bed and immediately regretted leaving the relative warmth of the sheets. Martin was still asleep, curled up under the woolen comforter but shivering slightly now and again. Douglas took pity on him and draped the blanket from his own bed over Martin before heading to the shower. Douglas took a long shower, lengthened by his reluctance to return to the freezing room. When he finally emerged, Martin was still asleep, so he headed next door to talk to Carolyn about their plans for the day. Carolyn conceded that they couldn’t fly out. Since most places in town had closed down, there was nothing for MJN to do but spend the day inside. The motel itself was only a few rooms and a small lobby downstairs. Douglas headed downstairs where Arthur was sitting in front of a roaring fireplace in his PJ’s, looking through the innkeeper’s collection of board games.  
“Douglas isn’t this brilliant! It’ll like a slumber party but all day!”  
“Yes, quite.” Douglas wandered over to one of the bookshelves against the wall.  
“Look, Douglas! Have you played this one before?” Arthur held up a game excitedly.  
“Ah yes, my daughter used to be quite fond of that one.”  
“Will you play with me Douglas? Please!”  
“Alright Arthur,” Douglas sighed. Casting one last lingering look at the surprisingly sophisticated selection of books, Douglas sat down on the rug next to Arthur.

\---

“Douglas, you can’t do that!”  
“I’m the Chief of Surgery, Arthur, I can do whatever I want. Your turn.”  
“Ok… Oh I got the butterfly. That’s pretty clever isn’t it Douglas? Because a butterfly is the absolute last thing you would expect to find in a stomach!”  
“Is it really the absolute last, Arthur?”  
“Oh absolutely!”  
“Indeed.”  
Arthur seized the plastic butterfly piece with the tiny metal tweezers and pulled, only to be rewarded with a loud buzzing sound.  
“Oh look, his nose’s gone all red, do you think that means I’ve won?”  
“Somehow I don’t think it does. Oh, hello Martin.”  
Martin had come down the stairs wearing jeans and wrapped tightly in a sweatshirt, his hair dripping wet.  
“Morning,” he grunted, and placed himself squarely in front of the fireplace.  
“Good morning Skip! D’you want to play with us?” Arthur chirped.  
“No, I don’t think so Arthur, thanks.”  
“And what seems to be ailing Sir this morning?” Douglas asked, putting his usual special emphasis on the word “sir”.  
“N-nothing, I’m just a little cold is all. Their hot water heater must be malfunctioning or something, I couldn’t get the shower to warm up…”  
“Ah… I may have… indulged myself in a shower a bit longer than necessary this morning,” Douglas admitted.  
“I should’ve known it would be you who used all the hot water,” Martin glared at him.  
“It’s really the fault of this B&B for having such a poor water-heating system.”  
Martin harrumphed at him and turned back to the fire. A few minutes later, Carolyn marched down the stairs.  
“I’ve just had a word with the owner of this…” Carolyn searched for a word, and settled on, “establishment. He’s unable to join us at the moment, due to his flight being grounded as a result of the storm, but he said to make ourselves at home. He also said that only place in town to get anything to eat, or even a decent cuppa, is a small grocery a few blocks from here. Fortunately, they’re open despite the storm. Unfortunately that means if we plan on eating anything today, someone will have to walk there and pick something up.  
“Ooh, me! Pick me, mum!” Arthur’s hand shot into the air and he waved it enthusiastically.  
“Oh you idiot boy,” Carolyn sighed, “All right. But someone’s got to go with him. The last time I sent him alone somewhere with my card, I ended up with a year’s membership to a subscription sock service.”  
“But mum, they send you a new pair of socks every month!”  
“Yes, yes,” Carolyn said dismissively, “Now who else fancies a trip to the store?”  
“As much as I’d love to, I can’t possibly go. I have to stay here and keep watch over our game, make sure no one unfairly fiddles with any of the pieces,” Douglas shrugged helplessly.  
“Alright,” Martin groaned, “I’ll go with Arthur.”  
“Thank you, Martin.”  
“Mum can I get a Toblerone?”  
“Yes, alright, fine. Martin, here’s my card.”  
Carolyn gave Martin directions to the store, and strict instructions as to what he should buy. She then made Arthur change into real clothes, and the two set off.

\---

The storm was in full swing when the captain and steward left the store. Martin was laden down with two bags of groceries, and Arthur was clutching a Toblerone to his chest and sporting an “I ♥ Tobermory” hat that Martin had finally caved and bought for him after much cajoling. Visibility in the storm was even lower than it had been on their way out, so Martin mostly kept his head down to avoid the stinging snow and retraced the path they’d taken before, glancing back occasionally to make sure he hadn’t lost Arthur.  
The two were crossing a wooden bridge spanning a small, frozen creek when Arthur cried out, “My hat!”  
Martin looked back in time to see Arthur’s prized souvenir be whisked away by a gust of wind and disappear over the side of the bridge.  
Arthur clutched at his now exposed head and repeated, “My hat!”  
Martin set down the bags of groceries and trudged over to the edge of the bridge, and could just make out the neon green of the cap where it rested on the icy surface of the creek. Martin turned back to Arthur, prepared to tell him to forget about it, but the expression of anguish on Arthur’s face made him stop.  
“Wait here,” Martin sighed.  
He picked his way to the end of the bridge, struggling to stay upright against the strong wind. The snow was somewhat higher along the edges of the road where snowplows didn’t pass through. Martin waded through it until he reached the bank of the creek. The steeply sloping bank down to the frozen water provided somewhat more of a problem. Martin eventually decided to sit down and slide down to the creek rather than attempting to walk and risking a fall. He estimated the creek was about 15 feet across, and the hat was resting on the ice near the middle. There was no way he could reach it without actually getting out onto the ice. He tested the ice nearest to him with a cautious foot, then judging it to be solid, he took a step out onto it. Martin continued in this way, testing each step before committing, until he reached the center of the creek. He snatched the cap up and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. Glancing up to the bridge, he could make out Arthur hanging over the rail, watching him. Martin gave a triumphant wave. He felt the ice beneath his feet crack before he heard it, but by then it was too late. Martin plunged into the icy water.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this yet but I just submitted my last college application and I'm a little bit ecstatic. More whump to come next chapter. Enjoy!

The cold seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. Logically, Martin knew that he’d be long dead before that could happen, but that knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. He floundered wildly for a second, but his bulky clothes were weighing him down and he continued to sink rapidly. He managed to shed his outermost coat which helped a little. He found the light filtering through the hole he’d created and used it as a point to focus on. Martin flapped his arms desperately, but he continued to sink and his physical and mental movements were both growing feeble. A familiar lightheadedness came over him, and he realized sluggishly that he was about to blackout. He fought desperately against the encroaching darkness, but it claimed him.

\---

One moment Martin was waving victoriously at him from the middle of the creek, and the next he had vanished into thin air, leaving Arthur bewildered, wondering where his Skip could’ve disappeared to. Arthur decided Martin’s instructions to him to “wait here” probably didn’t apply in cases of alien abduction, so Arthur pocketed his Toblerone and scrambled down the creek bank to where Martin had been last. Arthur picked his way carefully across the creek until he came to a roughly Martin-sized hole in the ice.  
“Oh no, Skip!” Arthur cried, and crouched down by the hole. He could see nothing but inky black water. Arthur worried his lip for a moment, then decided there was nothing else for it but to reach into the hole and see if he couldn’t grab hold of Skip. Arthur rolled his sleeve up as far as it would go, lied down on his side and submerged his arm in the frigid water.  
“Oh brrrrr!” Arthur cried, but gritted his teeth and grasped wildly around until he felt fabric against his hand. He clutched a fistful of the material tightly and began to pull. Soon, a head of curly ginger hair emerged from the water, followed by the rest of Martin. Arthur dragged him by his sweatshirt hood away from the hole onto more solid ice. Martin was deathly pale, and his chest was still, and for one terrifying moment Arthur was thought he wasn’t going to wake up. Then Martin started coughing violently, and didn’t stop for a long while, and Arthur didn’t know what to do other than pat him encouragingly. After a while, Martin stopped coughing and just lay on the ice trying to breath deeply.  
“You alright, Skip?”  
“I… don’t know,” Martin gasped.  
“Hold on then, Douglas will know what to do!” Arthur said optimistically, standing and offering Martin his hand. Martin took it but his knees immediately buckled and he had to lean heavily on Arthur to remain upright. They shuffled across the ice until they reached solid ground, and Arthur ended up practically carrying Martin up the slope to the road. Martin was soaked through, and began to shiver violently as they made their way back to the hotel; their progress significantly hampered by the fact that Arthur was supporting most of Martin’s weight.

\---

Douglas and Carolyn had spent the last hour and a half in blissful silence, Douglas chipping away at the inn owner’s Chaucer collection, and Carolyn busily typing away on her laptop. About halfway through Troilus and Criseyde, Douglas paused.  
“Do you think they’ve been gone a little long?” Douglas asked Carolyn.  
“They’re grown men. Well, one of them is, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Carolyn dismissed.  
“Yes, well, that man happens to be the most unlucky person I’ve ever met.”  
Carolyn was saved from responding by the front door flying open and Arthur shuffling in, dragging a dripping, nearly catatonic Martin.   
Douglas jumped up from his chair, dropping his book on the floor, “Martin?”   
He rushed over to Arthur and helped him lower Martin to the ground.   
“What happened?” Douglas snapped.  
“He had a bit of an accident, fell into a creek,” Arthur replied nervously.  
“Of course he did,” Douglas groaned in exasperation, “How long was he underwater?”  
“Um, I’m not sure… maybe a couple minutes.”  
“Shit,” Douglas cursed, “Ok, Arthur I need you to go upstairs and get all the blankets you can find. Carolyn, help me get Martin undressed.”  
“Those are six words I never thought I’d hear,” Carolyn remarked.   
Douglas studiously ignored her. Together they pulled off Martin’s jacket, shirt, and pants until he was in just his trousers.   
“Hey, Martin can you hear me?” Douglas slapped the captain’s face lightly but Martin remained unconscious. He was worryingly pale, and his skin was icy cold. Douglas felt a spark of frustration that the man managed to land himself in bad situations no matter how benign their surroundings were. Arthur stumbled down the staircase with an armful of blankets and dropped them in a pile front of the fireplace, which Douglas then fashioned into a makeshift bed. Douglas gently lifted Martin and carried him over to lay him on the blankets, then covered him with a few others. Douglas sat down on the floor next to Martin. He was confident they had done everything they could to get him warm, now there was nothing to do but wait for Martin to wake up and hope it had been enough.

\---

Douglas remained by Martin, sitting in a chair Arthur had dragged over after noticing the First Officer’s discomfort at being on the ground. He periodically checked Martin’s pulse and temperature with a thermometer from a first aid kit he’d found in one of the bathrooms. Douglas was pleased to find Martin’s temperature was steadily rising from the frightening 34 degrees it had been shortly after Arthur had brought him inside. Douglas was not so pleased, however, when an hour later, Martin’s body reached the healthy temperature of 37 degrees and kept going.  
“Damnit, Martin,” Douglas cursed as he read the numbers displayed on the small digital thermometer. He was also slightly concerned that Martin had remained asleep for the past hour with no signs of waking. It wasn’t until nearly lunchtime that Martin began to stir. Douglas was staring at the fireplace, lost in thought, when Martin groaned.  
“Martin?” Douglas was immediately kneeling next to his captain.  
Martin coughed and his eyes fluttered open. He struggled to focus on Douglas but was interrupted by a coughing fit. Douglas placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him and waited out the fit. When the coughs subsided, Martin collapsed onto his back, exhausted.   
Douglas leaned over him, “How do you feel?”  
Martin groaned in response.  
“I’ll take that as a ‘not very good.’ In the future, I suggest you avoid swimming in the dead of winter” Douglas remarked. “Martin I suspect you might have some sort of lung infection, likely picked up during your little dip. I need to take your temperature again.”  
“Ok,” Martin croaked in acquiescence.   
Douglas handed Martin the thermometer and Martin stuck it under his tongue. After a few minutes of silence, it beeped and Martin removed it and checked it.  
“What does it say?”   
“38.7”  
“Damn…” Douglas cursed. He’d been doing a lot of that today. “Here, drink this,” he thrust a glass of water at Martin. Martin took a few greedy gulps then stopped suddenly.  
“Douglas, I think I’m gonna-” Martin lurched forward and vomited onto the hardwood floor. It was just bile and water, as he hadn’t eaten anything since the flight in. Martin sat back, shaking slightly and scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. His cheeks were crimson.  
“Oh God, I’m s-sorry.”  
“Don’t apologise to me, it’s not my floor. Besides, it’ll give Arthur something to do. He’s been hovering about all day trying to be helpful. Carolyn finally took him back out to find the groceries you two so thoughtlessly abandoned,” Douglas said, prompting a glare from Martin.  
“Yes, well, sorry my almost-dying inconvenienced you.”  
“Now Martin, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Douglas protested.  
Martin’s frown was quickly replaced by a look of exhaustion, “I know Douglas, I’m sorry.”  
“No apology necessary. On an unrelated note, how exactly did you manage to fall into a frozen creek during a trip to the grocer?”  
Martin blushed again, “Um. Well, Arthur had gotten this cap at the store. One of those daft hats they only sell to tourists. It blew off his head and I was trying to get it back, “ Martin paused to cough violently.  
“Alright, as your doctor I am ordering you to get some rest now,” Douglas said, gently pushing Martin back down to the bed of blankets.  
“'Doctor' my arse…” Martin muttered, but he’d already fallen asleep by the time Douglas could come up with a clever retort.


	4. Chapter 4

Douglas insisted on Martin moving upstairs to a real bed, since he was no longer near-hypothermic. Douglas dialed info to find the non-emergency number for the local hospital and found out Tobermory didn’t have a real hospital, just a community nurse office, and since they had no mode of transportation during the storm real medical help was out of the question.  
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Carolyn whispered worriedly to Douglas. Martin was sound asleep upstairs and not likely to be roused. She was whispering for the sake of Arthur who was across the room playing Connect 4 against himself.  
“He should be fine without a hospital stay as long as he doesn’t get any worse. Of course, this is Martin we’re talking about…” A hint of worry crept into Douglas’ usually impeccably smooth voice.  
Martin slept fitfully for the next few hours. Douglas woke him up twice to make him take some penicillin and aspirin from the first aid kit. Despite Douglas’ best medical efforts, Martin’s fever continued to rise incrementally. Douglas sat in the chair next to Martin’s bed, while Carolyn was downstairs distracting Arthur with a game of Go Fish. He was a few pages into the Parliament of Fowls when Douglas noticed Martin had begun to wheeze almost imperceptibly with each breath. Douglas set the book down and watched Martin for a few moments, prepared to intervene (how, he wasn’t sure) should Martin’s condition deteriorate. Douglas blew out a relieved breath as Martin’s breathing seemed to be returning to normal, but only a moment later he broke into a coughing fit more severe than any so far. Martin sat up quickly, blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders, his eyes locking onto Douglas.  
“Alright Martin, it’s alright. Just breathe,” Douglas comforted, rubbing circles on Martin’s back. The fit went on for a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Douglas who could only watch helplessly as Martin attempted to stifle the coughs in his hands. When it ended, Martin was shaky and sweaty. He hunched over and gulped in great breaths.  
“What’s wrong with me, Douglas?” Martin gasped when he was finally able to speak again.  
“I don’t know,” Douglas sighed, “It has all the indicators of pneumonia, but pneumonia takes at least 24 hours to develop… Martin, is there anything that happened to you in the last week that could’ve caused this?”  
Martin shrugged, and then frowned, “I don’t… Oh, uh, well the heating’s been out in my van for about a couple weeks now…”  
“Martin!” Douglas exclaimed, “You mean to tell me you’ve been driving that piece of junk every day from home to the airport, not to mention on jobs, in subzero temperatures with no heating?”  
Martin nodded sheepishly.  
“Dear God, it’s a wonder you’ve survived this long. No doubt that’s the reason for this recent pulmonological development, it was just triggered by your creek accident. As soon as we get back to Fitton we are going to do something about that death-trap you call a van.”  
“Douglas, I can’t afford-”  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Douglas interrupted him, “For now, you focus on not asphyxiating. I don’t think poor Arthur would ever recover.”  
Martin smiled.  
“You’re probably dehydrated. I’ll be right back,” Douglas descended the stairs, went into the tiny kitchen behind the reception area of the motel, and filled a glass with water. He sighed as he heard Martin break out into another coughing fit. This one was shorter, and Martin was finished when Douglas got back with the water. Douglas noticed Martin was staring at something.  
“Martin, what is it?” Douglas approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
Martin turned, white-faced, and held up his hand so Douglas could see the crimson splatters on the palm.  
“Shit,” Douglas said for the second time that day, and he meant it exponentially more than the first.  
“Douglas, w-what’s happening to me? T-this isn’t normal is it?” Martin stuttered.  
“It’s not unheard of. Martin, listen, I need you to calm down.”  
“I can’t b-be sick! I have j-jobs this w-w-week. What am I g-going to do?”  
“Martin!” Douglas raised his voice, “Listen to me. You are going to be fine.”  
Martin’s breathing slowed, he sniffed and nodded, wiping at tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding, “W-what about the blood?”  
“Unfortunately there’s nothing we can do about that without going to a hospital. But don’t worry, hemoptysis isn’t an uncommon symptom of pneumonia.”  
Martin didn’t look convinced.  
“Hey, Martin, trust me. I’m a doctor,” Douglas smirked.  
“Hardly. You dropped out of medical school,” Martin pointed out.  
“Well unless you’d like to hand your fate over to Arthur, I’m the best you’ve got.”  
Martin smiled. Douglas was pleased he’d managed to distract him. If he was being honest with himself, Douglas was more than a little concerned about Martin’s condition. While he hadn’t been lying when he said coughing up blood wasn’t uncommon, he had understated the seriousness of the symptom. In standard cases of pneumonia, blood didn’t end up in the lungs. Meaning that there was something more serious going on in Martin’s case. And Douglas was virtually helpless.

\---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Douglas managed to force some tea down Martin, and Martin managed not to throw it up. Around dinner time, Martin was asleep so Douglas took a break from Martin-watch and went down stairs. Arthur was sprawled on the floor, fast asleep, and Carolyn was in the kitchen.  
“The poor boy fell asleep in the middle of an especially enthralling game of solitaire. It’s been a stressful day for him.” Carolyn was dicing potatoes.  
“Cooking, Carolyn? How very domestic of you.”  
Carolyn was unperturbed. “Well someone’s got to do it. You were otherwise occupied, and we all know what happens when Arthur is allowed in a kitchen.”  
“I’m not complaining. I’m fairly famished.”  
“As are we all. Now make yourself useful.” Carolyn thrust a cheese grater into Douglas’ hands. Her tone became serious, “How is he doing?”  
“Not any worse than the last time you asked me. But not any better.” Douglas halfheartedly scraped the block of cheese against the grater.  
“Hopefully this snow lets up by tomorrow and we can get out of this godforsaken town.”  
Douglas glanced to the window where snow was battering against the glass as ferociously as ever. “Yes. Well, chance would be a fine thing.”

\---

Carolyn’s soup was surprisingly delicious, despite it having been made by a person who Douglas couldn’t imagine often cooked much more than toast. Douglas tried to coax some soup into Martin, but the sick man fairly turned green at the mere mention of food, so Douglas let him be. Douglas stayed with Martin late into the night. Martin drifted in and out of consciousness, and was delirious from the fever when he was awake.  
“Douglas?” Martin asked. His voice was muffled from his face being half-buried in the pillow.  
“Yes, Martin?”  
“Will you read to me?”  
“Read to you?” Douglas asked incredulously.  
“Yeah.”  
“Alright Martin,” Douglas sighed, “What would you like me to read?”  
“Anything y’want.”  
Douglas picked up the book on the bedside table, flipped to a page, and began to read.  
“A widow who was rather old and poor. In a small cottage dwelt in days of yore, beside a grove that stood within a dale…”  
Martin listened attentively to the fable until Douglas reached the end.  
“Does Chaunticleer find happiness again?” Martin asked.  
“I’d like to think so, Martin.”  
“Douglas,” Martin began. He was rapidly losing lucidity.  
“Yes?”  
“You’re the rooster.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Like Chaunticleer… You lost the woman you love but you’re gonna be happy again…” The last words were barely audible. Martin was asleep by the end of the sentence.  
Douglas was taken aback by Martin’s brief moment of feverish insight. He considered his captain’s words for a long while before drifting off to sleep in the chair. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when Carolyn gently shook him awake.  
“Ugh, what time is it?” He asked.  
“Nearly 2 am. Why don’t you go get some sleep in a real bed. I’ll watch Martin for a few hours.”  
“Carolyn…” Douglas began, but Carolyn cut him off.  
“If this storm abates even a little bit and we have the chance to get off this bloody island, I want to make sure at least one of my pilots is fit to fly. Now please, would you forget your bloody ego for one minute. I promise I’ll wake you if Martin so much as sneezes.”  
“Alright, alright. Fine,” Douglas conceded. As reluctant as he was to let Martin out of his sight, he had to admit he was exhausted. He crawled into the bed in the next room and immediately passed out.

\---

“Douglas!”  
Douglas was jerked out of a deep slumber by Arthur’s frantic voice in his ear.  
“Douglas!” Arthur repeated, “It’s Martin!”  
Douglas was immediately wide awake. He flung the covers off, but the icy chill that came over him wasn’t related to the room’s temperature.  
“What’s happened?” He demanded. He clambered out of bed as quickly as his sore body allowed him to.  
“I d-don’t know, something’s wrong with Martin. Mum sent me to get you,” Arthur babbled.  
Douglas strode past him and down the hall to Martin’s room. Carolyn was bent over Martin’s bed, looking frazzled and as close to panicked as Douglas had ever seen her. Martin was awake and gasping, clutching at his chest.  
“Douglas!” Carolyn exclaimed when he joined her by the bed, “He woke up like this, he said he can’t breath.”  
“Martin,” Douglas met Martin’s terrified eyes, “I need you to breath. Your panic is exacerbating the respiratory problems.”  
Martin didn’t seem to be processing what Douglas was saying. His breaths were getting shallower and more desperate.  
“Damnit, Martin,” Douglas said emphatically. “I’m going to have to breath for him,” he said to Carolyn.  
She stepped back and placed a consoling arm around her distraught son. Martin’s struggles had grown feeble so he didn’t put up any resistance as Douglas placed a hand on his forehead and another on his chin and began breathing air into his mouth. After a couple minutes of Douglas breathing for Martin, Martin stopped moving completely. For one heart-stopping moment, Douglas feared the worst, but Martin’s pulse was still present, although thready. After a few minutes, Douglas stopped and was relieved to see that Martin’s chest continued to rise on its own. Douglas dropped into his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. This incident had been way too close for comfort. The next time they might not be so lucky. He didn’t care what he had to do, he was getting his people off this damned island one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious, the story Douglas reads is the Nun's Priest's Tale (in keeping with the Chaucer theme). It's about a rooster named Chaunticleer.


	5. Chapter 5

Douglas pulled Carolyn out into the hallway, leaving Arthur to sit and hold Martin’s hand.  
“Whatever Martin has, it’s much more serious than common Pneumonia,” Douglas whispered urgently.  
“What can we do?” Carolyn asked shakily.  
Douglas realized his own hands were trembling slightly. He jammed them into his pants pockets.  
“We have to drive to a hospital.”  
“Douglas, you seem to be overlooking the very small detail that we don’t have a car.”  
“We may not have a car, yes, but the owner of this inn has conveniently left his vehicle parked in the lot out front.”  
“And you want to do what? Break into it and take it on a cross-country joyride in a blizzard?” Carolyn asked in disbelief.  
“Not quite so dramatic, I’m afraid. I was actually hoping we could give the innkeeper a ring and ask to borrow it.”  
“And if he does agree to let us use it, then what? You’re going to hot-wire it? Wait, don’t answer that. I do not want to know.”  
“No need for that. If I’m not mistaken, one of the keys hanging on the key hook by the door belongs to that car.”  
“I see you’ve thought this through already,” Carolyn remarked.  
“Well I have had quite a bit of free time lately…” Douglas smirked.  
“What about the road conditions? Surely the snow is too high to drive through?”  
“We’ll manage,” Douglas said simply.  
“There are too many unknowns…” Carolyn began.  
Douglas turned serious, “Carolyn, if we don’t do this there is a very strong possibility Martin won’t make it to tomorrow night.”  
Carolyn’s expression softened, “Ok, fine. I have faith in your ability to get us all through this alive. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”  
“Yes ma’am,” Douglas saluted lazily, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cross-country joyride to plan.”

 

\---

Luckily for Martin, the innkeeper was very understanding and readily agreed to lend them his car. Although Carolyn suspected Douglas would have used it with or without permission. He also told them that the nearest hospital, in fact the only hospital on the island, was southeast of them and they would run into it if they followed the main highway for about 20 miles. While Carolyn and Arthur packed their things into the car, Douglas prepared a mostly unconscious Martin as best he could by bundling him up in multiple layers of clothes and blankets. When he at last carried Martin downstairs and set him in the back seat of the car, it was nearly dawn. The vehicle was small, and definitely meant to be driven in harsh weather conditions as it didn’t even have snow tyres, but it was the best they had. Carolyn had turned up the heating so the interior of the car was warm by the time Douglas slid into the driver’s seat. Carolyn was in the passenger seat, and Arthur, who was proudly sporting the flashy tourist cap that he had recovered from the pocket of Martin’s now-dry trousers, was in the back with Martin’s head resting on his lap. It was clear a snowplow had been through at some point recently, so the snow wasn’t too bad on the road. Douglas was more concerned about what it would be like on the highway outside of the village. He put his doubts aside and focused on the road.  
They had been driving for a whole five minutes before Arthur piped up, “Yellow car!”  
Douglas sighed. 

\---

It was slow going. With the high snow and ice on the road, Douglas had to drive at a crawl to avoid losing control of the vehicle. Douglas had lost track of time, but at some point Martin began to stir.  
“Douglas I think Skip’s waking up,” Arthur called from the back.  
Douglas eased up on the gas and glanced back. Martin was twisting around, mumbling incoherently. He was growing increasingly agitated.  
“Okay Arthur, try to keep him calm. Talk to him.” Douglas instructed.  
“Ok,” Arthur said, “Hey Skip! This trip sure has been an adventure, hasn’t it?”  
Arthur began to relate the events of the past day to Martin. After a few minutes, Martin seemed to sink back into a deep sleep. Douglas continued to look back periodically. On one such occasion, he looked back up at the road just in time to swerve to avoid an obtrusive snowbank. He felt the tyres begin to slide on the ice as he struggled to regain control of the car. They slid a few yards, then finally the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. There was a loud gasp from the back seat as Martin shot up in his seat. His eyes were wild. Douglas reached back to grab his shoulder.  
“Hey, Martin it’s alright.” For a moment, Douglas was afraid he was going to have a full-blown panic attack, but then the terror on his face turned into a different expression and Martin leapt towards the door and flung himself out of the car. Douglas turned off the car and jumped out after him. He found Martin on his hands and knees, emptying his stomach of its contents, which wasn’t much more than water and bile. Douglas crouched next to him and gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. When the retching finally stopped, Martin collapsed onto the snow, breathing heavily.  
“How are you feeling?” Douglas asked.  
Douglas expected a biting response to that question, but Martin only gave him a half-hearted shrug. The thin man was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. A particularly icy wind buffeted them and Martin shivered.  
“Alright then, let’s get out of the cold,” Douglas practically lifted Martin back into the car and shut the door behind him. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition to get the heating going. The engine turned over but the car didn’t start. Douglas tried again, and again, and again, but to no avail. Douglas cursed vehemently and slapped the steering wheel.  
“Um, Douglas? Why’s it doing that?” Arthur asked.  
“Hell if I know,” Douglas groaned from where he’d rested his head against the wheel.  
“But you can fix it.” Arthur stated with certainty.  
“I don’t know if this is within Douglas’ realm of expertise, Arthur,” Carolyn frowned.  
Arthur looked baffled by the implication that Douglas' realm of expertise was finite.  
“You don’t happen to know how to fix this do you?” Carolyn asked Douglas in a low voice.  
“Regrettably, automotive mechanical engineering is one of the few fields I have no experience in. If Martin were coherent it’s possible he could do something; with that rolling scrap heap he calls a ‘van’ I’m sure he’s done his fair share of tune-ups. Unfortunately he isn’t, and so we are faced with a difficult decision.”  
“And that is?”  
“We can wait and eventually freeze to death in here, or we can hope that we’re close to civilization and start walking and probably freeze to death out there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the vomiting, not so sorry about the whump :-)


	6. Chapter 6

Douglas tried again several times to start the shabby car, but was rewarded with not even so much as a splutter. They discussed their options, and between the three of them who were lucid, it was a unanimous decision to take their chances walking.  
“But Martin’s in no shape to be walking anywhere,” Carolyn pointed out.  
Douglas had considered this, “Yes. Meaning he will have to stay here, and someone will have to stay with him while someone else brings help back.”  
“Me!” Arthur immediately volunteered, “Me! I’ll go!  
“I suppose that means I’m going too,” Carolyn sighed resignedly.  
Douglas looked slightly uneasy, “Carolyn are you sure?”  
“Of course I am,” she snapped, “I am not some infirm old fogey in need of coddling. Besides, you’re the most suited to keep Martin alive until we get back.”  
“I suppose so,” Douglas conceded, “But you need to leave as soon as possible. The heat trapped in here isn’t going to last long.”  
Douglas did a bit of quick math and estimated they were maybe 15 miles out of Tobermory, meaning they couldn’t be more than 5 miles away from the hospital the inn owner had spoken of, and maybe even closer to a house where they could find help. Carolyn and Arthur both put on as many layers of shirts, sweaters, and coats as they had. By the time they were ready to go, the temperature in the confined space had dropped palpably.  
Arthur finished pulling on another pair of socks..  
“Are you quite finished?” Douglas asked, “I think you’re now wearing all of the socks we brought.”  
“Not yet! One more pair,” Arthur corrected, struggling to put on the last pair.  
“Right…” Douglas turned to Carolyn, “So the hospital is likely about 5 miles along this road, but you’re likely to come across something- a house, or business- before that.”  
Carolyn nodded grimly, “Don’t worry about us, we’ll get help. Come along, Arthur.”  
“Good luck,” Douglas said.  
Carolyn stepped out into the blizzard and cast a lingering glance at Martin, then looked back to Douglas, “You two hang on.”

\---

The temperature in the car was progressively dropping. The cold was crisp, and not yet uncomfortable, but Douglas knew it wouldn’t be long before it was unbearable. He moved to the back seat with Martin shortly after Carolyn and Arthur left. Douglas sat with Martin’s head resting on his lap and one hand on Martin’s chest to assure himself of Martin’s continuing respiration. Martin was emanating heat like a radiator, and while his temperature concerned Douglas, he couldn’t help but enjoy the small bit of heat he could glean off the smaller man. It wasn’t long before Martin woke. He alerted Douglas of his return to consciousness by abruptly sitting up and coughing uncontrollably. Douglas helped keep him upright until he’d finished. Martin sagged back into the car seat.  
“Welcome back, Mr. Van Winkle.”  
Martin groaned and wrapped his arms around himself.  
“Cold?”  
“Yes,” Martin croaked.  
Douglas shrugged his jacket off and draped it over the now-shivering Martin.  
“Douglas…” Martin protested.  
“Nonsense. You need it more than me right now. If you catch hypothermia and die in here, Carolyn will probably get Herc or someone to replace you. Can you imagine spending spending hours on end in a confined space with someone so arrogant and... snide?”  
Martin shot him a sideways glance but didn’t remark on the obvious irony of Douglas’ words. Instead, he asked, “Where are we?”  
“That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?”  
Martin simply looked puzzled.  
“We’re on a highway on our way to a hospital.”  
Martin paused, seeming to struggle to collect his thoughts, “...but we’re not moving.”  
“Astute observation, Sir,” Douglas said. He immediately regretted the biting tone, “The car’s gone and broken down.”  
“Ah,” Martin said, then frowned again, “ Where’s Arthur?  
“Gone to get help.”  
“You sent Arthur for help?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Martin. Carolyn’s gone with him.”  
“Ah.” Martin closed his eyes.  
They were both silent for a few minutes. Douglas thought Martin had fallen asleep when he spoke.  
“Douglas?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Do you think they’ll get back in time?”  
Douglas felt a pit settle in his stomach. “In time for what, Martin?”  
“I know it’s worse than you’re letting on.”  
“Alas, Sir makes the mistake of thinking I care enough about Sir’s feelings to lie to him,” Douglas said, putting as much bravado into his voice as he could muster.  
Martin snorted, then coughed roughly. Neither one of them mentioned the scarlet flecks that appeared on the back of Martin’s pale hand.  
Martin wheezed for a few moments and shivered, “Cold.”  
Douglas drew him closer, “Alright now. Gotta preserve body heat and all that.”  
Martin allowed himself to be pulled under Douglas’ arm, too tired to care about propriety. Martin rested his head on Douglas’ chest and closed his eyes. Douglas sighed and silently willed Carolyn and Arthur to return quickly.

\---

Douglas was jerked awake by the sound of Martin coughing. The coughs were short and ragged. Douglas winced in sympathy at each one. When they subsided, Douglas noticed just how far the temperature in the car had dropped. He realized he must have been asleep for a while. Martin had gone past shivering and was now simply very still. With a jolt of panic, Douglas fumbled at Martin’s neck for a pulse. He found it, but it was weak. Douglas observed the sleeping man. He was paler than usual, which was a feat considering he was naturally very white. His ginger curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat, despite the cold. His lips were slightly blue, suggesting oxygen deprivation. Douglas had expected this, but it unnerved him all the same. Douglas was getting more worried with each passing minute. He decided to look at something other than the object of his anxiety. It was still snowing outside.  
Big surprise there, Douglas thought grimly.  
The cold inside the car was biting. Douglas could see each breath he exhaled. He knew the cold was making him drowsy, but he didn’t want to fall asleep lest something happen to Martin while he was out. He tried to keep his mind occupied by thinking up new word games to play, but he found he didn’t find any pleasure in them without Martin. Before he knew it he’d fallen asleep.

\---

Martin was used to the cold. As the youngest child in his family, he usually was last in line for everything, and in a house of five people that usually meant the hot water was long gone by the time he got to the shower. His family wasn’t wealthy by a long shot, and both of his parents had worked long hours to make ends meet, so he’d been left to walk to school most days, often in rain and snow. Martin never complained, even though his unbelievable bad luck meant many times he’d arrive at school soaking wet and freezing and it would take him all day to warm up. His adult life hadn’t been much different so far. His small attic room was drafty, and poorly insulated, but it was the best he could afford on his £0 salary. Between these problematic living conditions and his barely functioning van, one of the only times he didn’t feel cold was when he was on board GERTI.  
Martin had extensive experience with the cold, but when he woke up in the back of a borrowed vehicle on a strange isle in the middle of a snowstorm, he felt a chill different than any he’d felt before. He awoke pressed up against Douglas. Douglas was warm. Martin tried to move closer to the warmth but he found he couldn’t get his limbs to obey his sluggish brain’s commands. After further thought, he realized he couldn’t feel his body at all. Martin felt an icy tendril of fear claw its way up his throat. He struggled to pull air into his abused lungs but his throat rebelled. He felt a black fuzz pressing in on his consciousness. His last thought before he succumbed was that he hoped Herc and Douglas would get along alright together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for this ending, but stay with me, it'll be ok. I don't write character deaths.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty short, but I couldn't find a better place to break it up. This is probably going to be the penultimate chapter.

Douglas’ eyelids were heavy. He blinked slowly into wakefulness. He felt a comfortable weight on his chest, and it took him a moment to realize it was Martin. Douglas thought he ought to wake Martin and make him drink something, but he was so cold and moving just seemed like an awful lot of work. He glanced down at Martin who was disconcertingly still.   
Douglas shifted slightly, “Martin.”  
Martin didn’t move. Douglas nudged him.  
“Martin,” he tried again.  
Martin didn’t respond. Douglas felt his concern ratchet up a notch. He shifted so he could lay Martin flat on the seat. He put two fingers to Martin’s neck. It was ice cold, but Douglas suspected his own neck would have felt the same. He couldn’t find a pulse the first time, so he tried again. He tried to quell the rapidly rising panic. Nothing. He tried again, still no pulse.  
“Martin!” Douglas put his hand on Martin’s chest but there was no movement, “Martin, hey!”  
He knew he was bordering on hysteria. Maybe it was the cold or the stress but he could only muster a fraction of the rigorous control he usually had over his emotions. Pushing down the panic, Douglas grasped Martin by the shoulders and hauled the prone man outside the car and deposited him gently on the ground. The snow was swirling around them in angry eddies, but Douglas needed a solid surface for CPR. He put both hands over Martin’s dormant heart and began chest compressions, counting each one under his breath and all too aware of how much pressure he had to exert for the resuscitation attempt to be effective. After 30, he paused to breath into Martin’s mouth twice, then resumed the compressions. With each second that passed with no response, Douglas’ despair grew.  
“Martin!” He called, “Damn it, Martin, wake up!”  
He maintained the pattern for one cycle, two cycles, three cycles… He felt at least one rib crack.  
“Martin. Oh hell, Martin, please,” he pleaded.   
His eyes blurred slightly but he blinked until they cleared and continued on. Four cycles, five cycles… Douglas knew the chances of Martin recovering dropped with each passing second, but he wouldn’t-- couldn’t allow himself to give up on Martin, his captain, his best friend. Six cycles… Douglas was flagging. He couldn’t keep it up much longer. Seven cycles…   
Martin erupted into strangled, gasping breaths. Douglas nearly choked in relief, and quickly helped Martin onto his side. They stayed like that for a long time; Martin sucking in breaths, and Douglas crouched next to him providing comfort through his presence. When Martin’s breathing had somewhat normalized, Douglas drew Martin into a clumsy one-armed hug.  
“You bloody idiot, you nearly died for good this time,” Douglas admonished, his voice rough.  
Martin gave a little squeak of pain and Douglas let him go immediately.  
“Ribs-- hurt,” Martin grated out.  
“Ah, yes… Sorry about that,” Douglas winced sympathetically, “Come on, let’s get back inside.”   
He gingerly helped Martin up, careful not to jostle his ribs. When they were both back inside the car, Martin was wheezing and looked like he was about to pass out again.   
“Now don’t fall asleep. We have to bind those ribs,” Douglas said. He used the scissors from the first aid kit to cut a few strips off of his sweater, “Ok, Martin I know it’s cold but I’m going to need you to remove your coats and shirt.”  
Martin grimaced, but started to shrug out of his jacket. He had one arm out when he stopped abruptly and the colour drained from his face.  
“Douglas,” he gasped, “a little help?”  
It was slow-going but eventually they managed to get Martin out of his many layers of coats. Douglas frowned at the state of Martin’s chest, which was starting to blossom with fresh bruises.   
He wound the strips of fabric around where the bruises were the most concentrated and tied them securely. Martin hissed in pain a couple times, but otherwise remained silent. Martin was shivering violently by the time Douglas finished. Douglas helped Martin back into his sweaters. Martin sank into his seat and closed his eyes.  
“Martin?”  
“Hm?”  
“Keep talking to me.”  
“Why?”  
“I… I just think it’s best.” Douglas knew his fear was unfounded, but the thought of Martin falling asleep again, and perhaps not waking up this time, terrified him.  
“Ok. W-what do you want to talk about?”  
Douglas thought for a few moments, then said, “How’s your mother doing?”  
“Fine.” Martin shrugged and crossed his arms, shivering.  
“Just ‘fine’?”  
“I… we haven’t t-talked in awhile…” Martin trailed off.  
“Why not?”  
“Er… s-she always asks h-how things are going… with the van and such… and, w-well you know I’m a r-rubbish liar.”  
“So?”  
“‘So’ what?”  
“How are things going with the van?”  
“Oh, well… n-not very good,” Martin said, “People- people don’t want to hire a man with a van-that’s-barely-still-a-van.”  
“Martin,” Douglas sighed, “You should have said something. I could have loaned you some money to fix your van at least.”   
Douglas didn’t mention that he would have gladly just given Martin the money, because he knew Martin’s pride would never allow him to accept a handout like that.  
“I’m n-not sure even y-you have that kind of m-money, Douglas,” Martin chattered.  
“You underestimate me.” Douglas smirked.  
Martin only shivered.  
“You know I mean it, right?” Douglas instantly grew serious.  
“Yeah… thanks.” Martin smiled hesitantly. He blew a breath out and scooted closer to Douglas. Douglas leaned slightly into Martin. They stayed huddled that way for a while, until eventually Martin’s breathing evened out and Douglas could tell he’d fallen asleep. Douglas stayed awake by keeping Martin’s earlier cardiac incident at the forefront of his mind as a stark reminder of what could happen should he fall asleep again. 

\---

Martin awoke to raised voices and faces hovering over him. He picked out Douglas, looking more pale and anxious than Martin had ever seen him, Arthur, grinning broadly, Carolyn looking worried but in control, but there were also two or maybe three faces he didn’t recognize. They seemed to be talking to him, all at once, but it might as well have been in another language for how much he understood of it. He struggled to make sense of what was happening for a few moments, then gave up and allowed his eyelids to slide shut again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so it's been a while since the last update. To anyone following- sorry about that. A little bit of Douglas introspection near the end here, because he's very fascinating to write. I hope to have the final chapter up soon. Thank you for reading!

Douglas had been alerted to the arrival of Carolyn and Arthur by the raucous rattling of a truck pulling up next to the broken down car. He cracked the door open to see two burly, bearded men jump out of the massive truck and jog over to the car. They were quickly followed by Carolyn and Arthur who, Douglas noted, were both now wearing jackets that were considerably too large for them.   
One of the men, the taller, spoke to Douglas, “Y’alright in there?” He had a thick Scottish accent.  
“I’m fine but Martin needs immediate medical attention,” Douglas said, swinging the door open. He clambered out of the cramped car but had to lean on Arthur until the paresthesia in his legs abated. The shorter of the two men gingerly lifted Martin from the car and carried him over to the truck. Douglas kept a close eye on Martin, who seemed to regain consciousness momentarily but not fully. The rest of MJN Air followed him and soon they were all loaded in the truck with Martin crammed in the back seat between Douglas and Arthur. The shorter bearded man started the car and cranked up the heater. He turned to look into the back seat.   
“Plenty o’ blankets back there for your mate,” he said, although Douglas had already wrapped the thick quilts around his prone captain.  
“What about Graham?” Arthur asked, pointing out the window where the other man was hunched over the open hood of the broken-down car.  
“Now don’t worry ‘bout my brother. Reckons he can fix your car and I told him he might as well take a crack. ‘Sides, he’s got his satphone if he decides it’s beyond his skills and wants a ride home. Ay, I’m Baldwin by the way, that’s me brother Graham,” the man said to Douglas.  
“It’s truly lovely to meet you, Baldwin, however I would greatly appreciate it if we could get Martin to a hospital,” Douglas said levelly.  
“Of course,” Baldwin said hastily. He started turning the car around. The four-wheel drive cut through the snow with no problem.   
The drive was far from smooth. Douglas kept one arm wrapped firmly around Martin to keep him from being jostled too much.   
“How is he?” Carolyn asked.  
“Not good,” Douglas said simply. It was an understatement but he didn’t want to go into detail with Arthur in earshot.   
Carolyn nodded grimly in understanding.  
“Douglas…” Martin rasped faintly.  
“Skip! How do you feel?” Arthur chirped.  
Martin gave a pained grunt in response. His hair was damp with sweat, his face pale and drawn.  
“Right. Stupid question.”  
“Martin,” Douglas said, “We’re on our way to the hospital. You’re going to be fine”  
Martin coughed painfully and attempted a smile, “If… if you say so,” he grated out.  
“I do.” Douglas said flatly, fixing Martin with an earnest stare.  
Martin reddened slightly and broke eye-contact. He started to try to escape from the quilt he was enveloped in.  
“Oh no you don’t,” Douglas said, placing a hand on Martin’s chest to stop him.  
“But ‘m hot,” Martin protested weakly.  
“That’s because you have a fever. Your body temperature is probably still too low though.”  
Martin looked like he was about to protest, then he stopped moving suddenly and stiffened. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled forward.  
“Martin!”  
“Skip!”   
“MARTIN!”  
The other three members of MJN Air shouted at once. Douglas caught Martin before he could hit anything, and cushioned the pilot’s head as he convulsed.  
“He’s having a seizure.” Douglas said, trying to maintain his composure for the others’ sakes.  
“What do we do?” Carolyn demanded.  
“There’s nothing we can do but make sure he doesn’t hurt himself further.”  
Martin stopped shaking after less than a minute, although it felt like hours to Douglas. Arthur grabbed Martin’s hand and held it tight. Carolyn looked like the was trying to will them to arrive at the hospital sooner. Douglas absently smoothed a hand over Martin’s hair. Baldwin pressed harder on the gas pedal.

\---

They were met by a flurry of medical staff at the door of the Emergency Room. They swiftly strapped Martin into a gurney. Douglas briefly explained to one of the nurses what he knew of Martin’s condition before the ginger pilot was whisked away by the doctors. Douglas had to suppress the brief flash of panic that arose in him when Martin disappeared around the corner.   
Baldwin led the way to the waiting area and Douglas collapsed into a chair. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The adrenaline that had fueled him for the past few hours was beginning to wear off. Douglas couldn’t wipe away the image of Martin’s pale face, the feeling of his icy skin beneath Douglas’ hands. Douglas had always considered himself the epitome of ‘cool, calm, and collected’, but the events of the day had left far more shaken than he remembered feeling in a long time.   
“Douglas.” Carolyn was standing over him. “The doctors want to check you out.”  
“What? I’m fine.”  
“They just want to make sure there were no adverse effects from the cold,” Carolyn said.  
Douglas sighed and made to stand, but his knees protested sharply and he fell back into the chair.  
“Douglas!” Arthur exclaimed.  
“Whoa, whoa,” Carolyn said, “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine!” Douglas snapped. It came out harsher than he had intended. He took a deep breath then said, softer, “I’m fine. It’s Martin you should be worrying about, not me.”  
“Martin is in very capable hands. There’s nothing else we can do now but be here for him,” Carolyn said brusquely.  
Douglas sighed again, “I know.”  
“Now do you think you can make it to an exam room or do I need to get Baldwin to carry you?”  
Baldwin grinned and winked at Douglas.  
Douglas treated Carolyn to a brief glare. “I think I’ll manage.”

\---

When the doctors were satisfied that Douglas was healthy and only suffering from a case of minor frostnip, he was allowed to return to the waiting area where Carolyn and Arthur were seated. He noted that Baldwin was gone.  
“Well?” Carolyn said when he approached them.  
“The doctor prescribed two bottles of Talisker scotch in the morning and two before bed,” Douglas said.  
“But Douglas you don’t-” Arthur began.   
“Yes, yes, Arthur, we know,” Carolyn cut him off, “Douglas, Martin’s doctor came while you were gone.”  
“And?” Douglas tried not to let his voice betray his apprehension.  
“She said they’re trying to determine what particular bacteria is causing the pneumonia so they can begin specific antibiotics. For now they have him on a respirator and fluids; he’s very dehydrated.”  
Douglas nodded, “Did she say when we can see him?”  
“After he stabilizes a bit and is moved out of the ICU. It could be a few hours though. She suggested we find a hotel in the mean time.”  
“I’ll stay here.”  
If Carolyn was surprised she didn’t show it. “Ok. Come along, Arthur.”   
The two went to the front desk where Carolyn borrowed the phone. Douglas leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, really wishing he had his flight bag so he could change out of his sweat-soaked, snow-damp clothes and maybe clean himself off a little in the bathroom. He settled for buying a coffee from the cafeteria and sipping it slowly as he paced the length of the waiting room. He made it through three coffees before Carolyn and Arthur returned.   
“Alright, you,” Carolyn said, tossing Douglas’ bag at him “We have two rooms at the hotel down the street, go shower and change and then you can come back here and resume wearing a hole in the floor. I promise it will still be here when you get back.”  
“How did you get it?” Douglas said, holding up his bag. He’d left it behind in the broken down car.  
“Graham fixed the car. Turns out it was a minor mechanical problem.”  
“Of course it was,” Douglas muttered.   
Carolyn handed him a ring of keys, “Here are the keys, the car is out front. Go to the hotel and shower and change, then you can come back here. I promise we’ll call you at the hotel if there’s any news.”  
“Ok… But call me if there’s any news at all. Anything,” Douglas said, reluctantly taking the keys.  
“Of course. Oh, and Douglas?” Carolyn called, halting Douglas before the door.  
“Hm?”   
“Room 112.”

\---

“Ah,” Douglas let out an involuntary gasp as the scalding water streamed over him, relieving him of some of the chill that seemed to have seeped into his bones over the course of this trip. He made the shower as short as he could stand, eager to return to the hospital as quickly as possible. After he’d completely washed the cheap hotel shampoo from his hair, Douglas wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the shower into the muggy bathroom. He rubbed his hand on the fogged up mirror until he could see himself in the spot he’d wiped. He allowed his gaze to linger on the frown lines creasing his face, the russet-brown hair tinged with grey at the temples, the dark circles under his eyes that were a temporary souvenir from the past few days. He could recall the days when nothing could rattle him. In college and med school he’d been delightfully unattached. Untouchable. That air of invincibility had first been shaken when he’d fallen for his first wife. It was as if a piece of his heart had been removed and put out into the world, and whenever something hurt her he felt that pain as if it were his own. It was a terrifying feeling, one that he sought to protect himself from from then on. After his divorce with his first wife, he didn’t feel that specific kind of connection again for a long while, at least not until Martin came to work for MJN.   
Douglas left the bathroom. He pulled a t shirt on.   
Martin. Uptight, by the book, pain-in-the-neck, ‘Supreme Commander’ Martin. There was something different about him from the moment Douglas first met him. Something that made Douglas decide to give him a chance before he ran him off like he had done with all of the other captains. And then suddenly it had been weeks and Martin was a part of MJN and Douglas’ life and there was nothing Douglas could do about it, even if he’d wanted to.  
Douglas fastened his belt and ran a comb through his hair.   
He had first experienced that terrifying feeling of vulnerability a few months after Martin started. They were in Kecskemét for a few nights, flying a round-trip for a client. Douglas had returned to their shared hotel room after a night exploring the city and he’d found Martin in the bathroom sporting a black eye, a bloody lip, and trying to hide his tearstained cheeks. Douglas had struggled to control his anger. He’d threatened to find whoever was responsible and pay them back twofold. Martin had explained it had been a mugging, and some of Douglas’ rage was replaced with fear. A random act of violence like this could befall anyone and there was nothing Douglas could do to protect Martin from everything dangerous in the world.   
Douglas descended the hotel stairs and exited the front door. He was unsettled by the flood of memories. He tried to push them down as he climbed into the borrowed car and started it up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I had meant for this to be the last chapter, but it got away from me and I didn't want this chapter to be disproportionately long, so there will be another chapter after this. I think I should probably never have been given the ability to post chapter-by-chapter. Anyways, thanks for reading. And especially thank you to Unionjackpillow for being a champ and following along and leaving me feedback on every chapter-- you're keeping me going!

It was another half-hour after Douglas arrived back at the hospital before there was finally a change. Douglas was trying to distract himself by playing hangman with Arthur but he was so out of it that Arthur had even almost managed to win a round. Carolyn had taken out her laptop to get some work done but had closed it not much later, grumbling about the lack of wifi.  
“Family of Martin Crieff?”  
The voice jerked Douglas’ attention away from the margins of a magazine where he was adding hair to Arthur’s doomed hangman. He looked up to see a nondescript, white coat-clad man holding a clipboard, looking down at them.  
Douglas stood, “Yes, that’s us,” he said quickly before Arthur or Carolyn could say anything to the contrary.  
“Great. Hello, I’m Martin’s doctor, Dr. Rhodes. Martin is stable for now, but the news isn’t all good, and I’m going to be completely frank,” he began, frowning down at his clipboard, “Martin is still in very serious condition. A few complications from the pneumonia have arisen, including a buildup of fluid in the pleural cavity and possibly a bacterial infection in the bloodstream. Now, we’ve drained the fluid and have him on a ventilator to assist in breathing, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Our main concern right now is the bacteria, however we won’t be able to proceed with treatment until the results of the blood culture come back.”  
Silence reigned for a few moments after he finished speaking, then Arthur piped up, “So, can we see Skip now?”  
Douglas nearly smiled at the fact that that seemed to be all Arthur took from the doctor’s presence.  
Dr. Rhodes remained solemn, “You’re welcome to see Martin, but he may not be fully conscious yet. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to Martin’s room, there’s a waiting area nearer to it that’s a little more private.”  
The incomplete MJN Air crew gathered up their belongings, discarded coffee cups, and repurposed magazines and followed the doctor through the sterile white halls of the hospital. Martin’s room was on the second floor of the two-story hospital. The aforementioned “waiting area” was nothing more than a few chairs and a table squeezed in between two vending machines, but Douglas was pleased to find it was right around the corner from Martin’s room. Rhodes showed them to the room then excused himself, promising to check up with them again later in the day. When they entered the room, Douglas’ eyes were immediately drawn to the figure on the bed. Martin looked especially small and frail in the large hospital bed. He was surrounded by wires and tubes running from his arms, mouth, and nose to the machines around him. Beneath the breathing apparatus on his face, his skin looked more pale than usual, the unhealthy pallor emphasized by the shock of bright hair that spilled slightly onto his forehead. Douglas approached Martin’s bedside slowly and reached a hand out to where Martin’s hand lay on the bed, only to withdraw it swiftly when he remembered Arthur and Carolyn’s presence behind him.  
“Go ahead and touch him.”  
Douglas was startled by the voice. He hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the room, but then he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but his captain, so he hadn’t seen the nurse on the other side of Martin’s bed, where she was adjusting something on the machinery.  
“It’s ok to touch him,” the nurse repeated when Douglas only stared blankly at her, “in fact it’s encouraged. Unconscious patients seem to be able to sense the presence of loved ones nearby so physical and verbal reassurances can sometimes help speed up recovery.”  
“Erm, yes,” Douglas coughed awkwardly, “I believe I’ve heard something similar before.”  
Arthur sat down in the lone bedside chair and grabbed Martin’s right hand, clasping it tightly between his own, “I’m not letting go of Skip until he gets better!” he declared.  
Douglas smiled involuntarily.  
“We’ll take shifts,” Carolyn suggested, “one of us will always be here so Martin doesn’t wake up alone.”  
“That’s surprisingly maternal of you, Ms. Knapp-Shappey,” Douglas said, quirking an eyebrow.  
“You know I am actually a mother.”  
“I suppose that’s technically true,” Douglas mused, “anyhow, I guess this means we’ll need to scavenge a couple more chairs.”

\---

Carolyn and Arthur had just left to find the hospital gift shop when Martin began to stir. Douglas sat up in the chair he’d been dozing in for the past two hours.  
“Martin?” He said softly.  
Martin murmured something inaudible and shifted, but didn’t awaken. Douglas could see his eyes moving rapidly under the closed lids, and realized he must be in the throes of a nightmare. Douglas feared attempting to wake Martin could prompt a violent reaction from him and cause further harm to his damaged ribs, so he settled on grasping Martin’s hand. Martin immediately seemed to relax with the contact.  
“Alright, Martin. You’re alright.” Douglas stroked his thumb across the back of the captain’s pale hand and slowly Martin stopped tossing and settled back into the pillow. After a few minutes of apparent peaceful sleep, Douglas was surprised when Martin’s eyes fluttered open  
“Martin?”  
Martin tightened his grip on Douglas’ hand, “Douglas?”  
He tried to sit up but quickly stiffened and gasped in pain, free hand shooting to clutch his side.  
“Hey, slow down!” Douglas said, alarmed, “You have a few cracked ribs. The less you move, the lower the likelihood of one of them slipping and piercing a vital organ.”  
Martin grimaced, hand still hovering protectively over his abused ribs.  
“Ow,” he said.  
“You’re exceedingly facund as always, sir,” Douglas rolled his eyes.  
“Douglas, I-” Martin stopped mid-sentence as he noticed for the first time the position of his and his first officer's hands.  
Douglas followed his eye-line to the clasped appendages.  
“Ah, yes. The nurse suggested we- Carolyn, Arthur, and I- maintain a degree of physical contact with you. To aid in the healing,” Douglas explained smoothly.  
“Ah- o-of course,” Martin reddened slightly.  
“I can let go if it’s making you uncomfortable,” Douglas offered.  
“No! I mean- no, it’s alright. Quite alright.”  
“Quite.” Douglas smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finally finished! Thanks to everyone who read, kudoed (spell-check tells me that's not a word but I'm fairly certain it's wrong), and reviewed. Special thanks to Unionjackpillow again, you're amazing =)

Alerted to Martin’s wakefulness by the machines, the nurse returned and fussed over Martin and the troupe of devices hooked up to him. When she’d finally finished, Martin was about ready to fall asleep again, but Carolyn and Arthur returned only a few moments after the nurse had left.  
“Skip! You’re awake! Look what we got you!” Arthur bounded across the room and presented Martin with a little stuffed bear holding a heart that said ‘Get well soon!’.  
Martin smiled sleepily. “Thank you Arthur, it’s great.”  
“How are you feeling?” Carolyn asked.  
“Like someone’s been jumping up and down on my chest.”  
“Well you’re not far off,” Douglas said lightly, but Martin noticed his eyes lacked their usual teasing glimmer. Before Martin could reply, Dr. Rhodes strode in.  
“Ah, good, you’re all here.” The doctor’s face was carefully neutral, an expression no doubt perfected by many years of delivering medical news. “The results of the blood culture are in. Negative.”  
Douglas released an audible sigh, and he could see Carolyn looking similarly relieved. Arthur, however, looked visibly distressed by the doctor’s pronouncement.  
“Oh Skip!” Arthur cried, tears filling his eyes, he threw himself on Martin before Douglas or Carolyn could react.  
“Ow! Arthur!” Martin squeaked.  
“Oh no! Sorry!” Arthur exclaimed, quickly withdrawing from his hug.  
“Martin!” Douglas said worriedly, “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah,” Martin gasped, “ribs just… a little sore..”  
“Arthur Shappey, what has gotten into you?” Carolyn demanded.  
“‘M sorry mum,” Arthur sniffled, “I just don’t want Skip to die.”  
“Die- what? Didn’t you hear the doctor?” Carolyn said, “The blood test was negative.”  
Arthur looked blank.  
“Arthur, it means there’s no bacteria in Martin’s blood,” Douglas clarified.  
Arthur looked bewildered, “What? But I thought negative meant bad.”  
There was silence in the room for a few moments as they all processed Arthur’s words. The silence was broken by Martin giggling. It started out as shallow snickers but quickly escaped Martin’s control until he was suffering from a full-blown laughing fit, clutching the stuffed bear to his chest, gasping for breath. Douglas couldn’t help but grin at the state of his captain, and soon he was laughing too. It wasn’t long before all of MJN Air was laughing hysterically. It took a few minutes and a barbed glare from a passing nurse to get them calmed down enough for Dr. Rhodes to finish updating them on Martin’s condition. Without the imminent threat of bacteremia, Martin’s situation was looking a whole lot better, and with bed rest and the assistance of a breathing mask for a little while, and assuming no unexpected complications, the doctor expected him to make a full recovery in a matter of weeks.  
“What about flying?” Martin asked anxiously, when Rhodes had finished, “When will I be fit to fly?”  
“As a pilot, at least a few weeks. As a passenger, you could fly as soon as tomorrow, but I want to monitor you for pneumothorax, or any sign of air leakage into the pleural cavity, before I OK air travel.”  
Martin groaned aloud, but it was feeble, and Douglas could tell his energy was flagging.  
“Alright, doc,” Douglas said pointedly “you can give us all the nitty-gritty details later. Now I think it’s a bit past poor Martin’s bedtime.”  
Martin shot Douglas a grateful look. Rhodes nodded in understanding and placed Martin’s chart back in the pocket at the end of the bed.  
“I’ll check back in with you tomorrow. Your night doctor will be by sometime soon. Good night,” Rhodes excused himself.  
“Alright,” Carolyn said as soon as he’d left, “I think we all are in need of some well-deserved rest.”  
“I’ll stay here,” Douglas said automatically.  
“Douglas-” Carolyn began to protest, but Douglas cut her off.  
“Don’t ‘Douglas’ me. I’m perfectly content napping in this chair. It’s much more comfortable than my chair in GERTI, and I manage to sleep just fine in that…” Arthur frowned at this, and Douglas continued before he could comment, “Now, you and Arthur go back to the hotel and in the morning we can switch places and I’ll get some proper rest.”  
Carolyn floundered for a solid argument against this plan, but finding none, she nodded her reluctant assent, “Alright, fine. We’ll be back first thing in the morning. Come along, Arthur.”  
The two departed, Arthur giving Martin one last cheerful wave on the way out. Martin was keeping awake by sheer stubbornness, but it was a losing battle, his blinks were getting progressively slower.  
“Thanks for staying with me, Douglas,” he mumbled.  
“My motives were purely selfish, I’m afraid. Carolyn only shelled out for two rooms, and I didn’t feel like listening to Arthur’s snoring all night.”  
Martin smiled. “Night, Douglas.”  
Douglas reached over and clasped the captain’s hand again. “Night, Martin.”


End file.
